Magic & Mishaps Page 8

  Veronica bit her lip. “You want some surprises, don’t you?”

  “Will being a hybrid cause problems for…the child?” Daniel asked.

  Veronica regarded him. “What are you worried about? That your offspring will encounter obstacles? Of course they will. That’s life. You can’t protect a child from that, weird hybrid or no weird hybrid.”

  “Not weird,” Daniel said. “Just different.”

  “Let your freak flag fly, I say.” Veronica splayed her hands on the table. “Embrace the child’s differences so that the child will learn to embrace them as well. There’s no shame in bringing so many unique gifts into the world.”

  “When you say ‘differences,’ do you mean the child will look strange?” Emma asked.

  “What are you worried about—that they’ll have both wings and horns?” Veronica asked.

  Emma touched the top of her head. “Who has horns?”

  “Lots of creatures,” Veronica replied. “What do you have against horns?”

  “Nothing,” Emma said quickly. “I think horns and antlers are beautiful.”

  Veronica rolled her eyes. “Oh gods. You’re not one of those, are you?”

  “One of what?” Emma asked.

  “Not all horns are created equal,” Veronica replied. “Have you ever seen the horns on a werebull?” She grimaced. “You don’t want to be waking up next to a pair of those on a dreary Sunday morning when you’re too hung over to get up for water and…” She trailed off. “Well, you get the idea.”

  “That’s highly specific,” I piped up from the side of the room.

  “No comments from the peanut gallery,” Veronica snapped.

  “Will the child be safe?” Emma asked.

  “I already answered that,” Veronica said. “You can’t protect them from every kind of harm. It isn’t reasonable.”

  “I’m not talking about being bullied or hurt feelings,” Emma said. “I mean actual safety. Is my child under threat?”

  Veronica gazed into her crystal ball. “I see what you mean.”

  “You do?” Emma’s head whipped toward her husband’s and I saw the fear in her eyes.

  “Power stirs yet still sleeps,” Veronica said.

  Emma patted her stomach. “More stirring than sleeping lately.”

  Veronica ignored her, now in a trancelike state. “Power soon awakens.”

  “How soon?” Daniel asked. “I mean, the nursery is all ready, but I’d like more time to practice fastening diapers.”

  Veronica’s hands began to tremble. “The child is an ember.”

  “No, that’s me,” I said.

  “And yet also a spark,” Veronica continued. “The child ushers in a new beginning.”

  “That’s true of any child,” I murmured. Marley was a new beginning for me. When most teenagers were getting their first cars or heading off to college, I was learning how to be a mother and a wife. I was still trying to figure out how to be the former. It seemed like every new year with Marley was also a new beginning because her growth and development brought constant changes to our lives. Then, of course, there was our new beginning in Starry Hollow.

  Veronica’s eyes flew open and I saw only the whites—no pupils. “The light will shine. The child is a beacon.”

  “Of hope?” Emma asked.

  “Maybe she means bacon,” Daniel whispered. “Are there any werepigs in your family?”

  Veronica released a violent gasp and her pupils reappeared. She scanned the room with a furrowed brow. “Jericho,” she shrieked. “My throat’s dry. Where’s my Diet Coke?”

  Jericho bustled into the room with a soda bottle. “My humblest apologies, most commanding presence. I was in the midst of setting up your laptop to stream The Golden Girls.”

  Veronica perked up. “It’s the one where they’re arrested for prostitution, isn’t it?”

  Jericho nodded. “With a cameo by Burt Reynolds.”

  Veronica clapped her hands. “I adore that one. That Sophia is such a pistol.” She smiled at the couple in front of her. “Any more questions?”

  “Yes, one,” Daniel said. “Who killed Bonnie Rydell?”

  Emma elbowed him. “Good one.”

  “Bonnie Rydell,” Veronica repeated. “Is that the nymph that was strangled and found in a dumpster outside Palmetto House?”

  “Is that what everyone’s saying now?” I asked, sliding my feet to the floor.

  “That’s what I heard in the Wish Market,” Veronica said. “The rest of the seers clam up when there’s a murder in town. Too easy to accidentally implicate an innocent party.”

  “I’ve been interviewed as a suspect,” Daniel said. “Can you see anything in your crystal ball that would help the investigation?”

  Veronica pursed her lips. “My current energy dial is set to impending birth, so it’s difficult to suddenly switch channels. I’m not a remote control, you know.”

  “Alec’s been implicated, too,” I said. “If you can glean any information that would help Sheriff Nash, we’d all appreciate it.”

  Veronica inclined her head. “I knew you’d end up with that vampire.”

  “You did not,” I said. “You thought I was with Emma a few minutes ago.”

  Veronica waved a dismissive hand. “I was woozy from a nap. Poor Sheriff Nash.” She clucked her tongue. “Well, no matter. He won’t be alone for long.”

  I stiffened. “He won’t?”

  “Of course not. Just look at the simmering hunk of manliness,” Veronica said. “Common sense dictates that a werewolf like that will find a mate soon enough.”

  “So you’re relying on common sense for this one and not your psychic powers,” I said.

  “If you’re not paying me for it, I’m relying on common sense,” the seer replied crisply.

  Fair enough.

  “As far as the nymph’s murder goes, I sense hostility and confusion, and yet affection…maybe even tenderness.”

  “You common sense it or psychic sense it?” I asked for clarity.

  Veronica narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m starting to sense hostility right now.” She untwisted the lid from the bottle and sucked down a mouthful of Diet Coke. She smacked her lips together and smiled. “Now, will that be cash or credit?”

  Chapter Eight

  I sat in Water Wheel Tavern, nursing a drink. It was an older establishment without the charm of the Whitethorn. The interior was a little too dark and dreary for me, but I was here for work, not for fun. Although I wasn’t technically writing about the murder, it seemed important to interview Bonnie’s ex-boyfriend about her. And if I happened to learn anything that would aid the investigation, then so be it.

  “Any idea which one is Jarrod Hellman?” I asked the bartender.

  She pointed to the guitar player, a scruffy brunette with a tattoo of a rattlesnake on his bicep. I wasn’t sure how a guy like this managed to reel in as many women as he allegedly did.

  “You might want to steer clear of that one unless you like doctor visits,” the woman on the stool beside me said.

  I swiveled to face her. She wore her thick brown hair loose down her back and a tight black top with a deep V.

  “Are we talking diseases or abuse?” I asked.

  The woman crossed her denim-clad legs and smiled demurely. “Both.” She extended a hand. “I’m Beth.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand. “Ember.”

  “You’re not a regular here,” Beth said. More of a statement than a question.

  “No, I’m checking it out.”

  “It or him?” She inclined her head toward Jarrod.

  “It’s not what you think,” I said. “I’m a reporter.”

  “And you plan to write a story on the loser band that can’t seem to play anywhere except the places they frequently drink?” She laughed. “Not much of a story.”

  I decided to come clean. “I’m writing a story about Bonnie Rydell, his ex-girlfriend.”

  Beth’s smile
faded. “I heard about that. Terrible tragedy.”

  “It was,” I said.

  Her lip curled. “I hope they catch the nasty vamp that did that to her. Bonnie didn’t deserve that kind of suffering.”

  I bristled at the accusation. “We don’t know for sure that a vampire is responsible.”

  “I heard she was drained dry,” Beth said. “If that doesn’t sound like a vampire, then I don’t know what does.”

  I tried to maintain my composure. “You knew Bonnie?”

  “A little.” Beth stopped to sip her glass of white wine. “We frequented the same places.”

  “Like here?” I asked.

  Beth nodded. “Here’s one of them.”

  My gaze swept the darkened interior. “Is this the regular crowd?”

  “More or less,” Beth said. “The band doesn’t draw a huge audience, but they’ve got their devoted regulars.” She paused. “Bonnie used to be one of them.”

  “Is that how she and Jarrod met?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.”

  “Did Bonnie ever discuss any of her relationships with you?”

  “Only superficially. We weren’t friends. Just acquaintances.” She polished off her wine and slid the glass across the width of the bar.

  “What did you talk about then?”

  “Not much. Complimented each other’s hair or clothes. That sort of thing.” She snickered. “She once gave me a tampon in the bathroom when I had an emergency.”

  “Any enemies that you know of? Public disagreements?”

  Beth’s brow creased. “She got into a screaming match with Pam Kellogg a couple weeks ago. Two of them screeched at each other like banshees.” She paused. “Well, technically Pam is a banshee. Anyway, the owner threw them out, so they carried on in the parking lot.”

  “Do you know what the fight was about?”

  “Probably nothing,” Beth said. “They were both drunk as skunks. Bonnie tripped on her way out and Pam helped her up. Never stopped screaming at each other, though. I have to admit, it was highly entertaining.”

  “Any idea where I can find Pam?” I asked.

  “She’s not here tonight, but she waits tables over at the Moonlight Diner.”

  “Thanks, you’ve been really helpful.”

  “Will my name be in the paper?” Beth asked.

  “Um, I’m not sure yet.” I didn’t think that tampon sharing was particularly newsworthy.

  She beamed. “I’ve never been in the paper before. It’d be fun to see my name in print.”

  “Vox Populi gets published once a week, so keep an eye out. I’m not sure when this story will be finished, though.”

  The music stopped and the members of the band joined the rest of the bar. Jarrod noticed me watching him and sauntered over. I could tell from his pleased expression that he assumed he’d attracted female attention. A night in the life of a failed rockstar.

  “Nice tattoo,” I said.

  He leered at me. “Got another one you can’t see right now.” He winked. “Maybe later if you’re lucky.”

  I suppressed a grimace. “Why a rattlesnake?” I asked.

  He turned his arm and glanced casually at the image. “Just like ‘em.”

  “Any reason?” I asked. “Why not anacondas or pythons?”

  He grinned, revealing a set of crooked teeth. “I like that they’re dangerous, yet musical. Like me.”

  Okay then. “They’re musical?”

  “The rattle,” Jarrod said. “Obviously, I play guitar, not the tambourine or some lady instrument.”

  Lady instrument? What on earth did Bonnie see in this guy?

  “Arguably, the rattle’s more of a baby instrument,” I said.

  He missed the joke, nodding toward the stage instead. “You can catch me at local watering holes like this one most Friday nights.” He looked me up and down. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

  For a brief moment, I worried that Beth would reveal that I was a reporter, but a quick glance told me that she was already deep in conversation with the pixie behind her.

  “I just discovered this place,” I said. “It’s off the beaten track.”

  “You tell Natalie that you know me and she’ll set you up,” Jarrod said. His gaze darted to the busy bartender. “Ain’t that right, Natalie?” he hollered.

  Natalie shot him an amused look as she pulled a few pints.

  “Natalie seems to disagree,” I said.

  “You like bourbon?” he asked.

  “Not particularly.”

  “You’re missing out,” Jarrod said.

  I froze when the door to the bar opened and Sheriff Nash swaggered in. He spotted me immediately and arched an eyebrow. Uh oh. Guess I had company now.

  “I should’ve guessed I’d find you here,” the werewolf said, approaching us.

  I pointed to Jarrod. “Him or me?”

  The sheriff cocked his head at me. “Who do you think, Rose?”

  Concern flashed in the werejackal’s eyes when he zeroed in on the star pinned to Granger’s shirt. “You two know each other?” Jarrod asked.

  “Sure do. I almost said intimately,” Sheriff Nash said, “but that isn’t really true, is it, Rose?” He shrugged at Jarrod. “Never got that far, sadly.”

  The back of my neck grew warm. “Jarrod here likes rattlesnakes.” I motioned to the tattoo.

  “I prefer sidewinders myself,” the sheriff replied.

  “They’re okay, too,” Jarrod said carefully.

  “Did you ask him about Bonnie?” the sheriff asked.

  “I was getting to that,” I replied. “You interrupted.”

  Sheriff Nash’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “I should’ve known you’d try to clear Alec.”

  “I’m writing a story on Bonnie,” I said. “I can’t help it if our subjects overlap.”

  Jarrod followed the conversation, appearing puzzled. “If you don’t need me, I think I’ll chat with that brunette across the bar.”

  The sheriff’s arm shot out to block him. “She can wait. I’d like you to answer a few questions first.”

  “I heard what happened to Bonnie,” Jarrod said. “Tore me up inside, I swear, but I had nothing to do with it. I’m a werejackal.” He displayed his crooked teeth once more. “See? No fangs.”

  “You got an alibi for Friday night, early Saturday?” the sheriff asked.

  Jarrod cracked a smile. “I do. I was here, playing with the band. Ask any of ‘em. They’re all here now.” He jabbed a finger at the bartender. “Ask Natalie.”

  “Until what time?” Sheriff Nash asked.

  The werejackal scratched the tattoo on his arm. “I lose track of time when I drink.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Natalie! How late was I here drinking Friday night?”

  Natalie placed a pint glass in front of a werebear and wandered over to our end of the bar. “Later than I would’ve liked.”

  The sheriff chuckled. “Care to put a number on that?”

  “Probably quarter past four,” Natalie said. “I had to invoke the ward to get them to leave.”

  “You’ve got a ward that does that?” I asked.

  “Sure do,” Natalie said. “I use it plenty, too. The owner says it was well worth the cost.”

  “So I’m good, right?” Jarrod asked.

  “Seems to be the case,” the sheriff said. “Anything you can tell us that would help find Bonnie’s killer?”

  The werejackal smirked. “Ask around at all the dive bars. She probably met another guy the minute we broke up. Bonnie was needy. She didn’t like to be alone.”

  I bristled. I hated when men called women ‘needy.’

  “Thanks for the tip,” Sheriff Nash said.

  I slid off the stool. “Good talking to you, Jarrod. Take care of that tattoo.”

  He gave me a thumbs up and made a beeline for the brunette who’d been eyeing him.

  “You don’t need to escort me,” I s
aid, as the sheriff left the bar with me. “I can take care of myself.”

  “It’s late and it’s a rough place, Rose. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Oh, really? I never would’ve guessed from your recent behavior.” I stopped next to my car.

  “And what recent behavior would that be?”

  My blood pressure began to rise. “Never got that far, sadly,” I said, mimicking him. “Don’t say things to humiliate me in public. It isn’t fair.”

  “You publicly humiliated me,” he shot back. “You think that’s fair?”

  We stared at each other for a beat in silence. Finally, he dropped his gaze.

  “Shoot, Rose. I don’t want to be at odds with you. I promised myself I’d be the better paranormal.”

  “Oh, so you have to be better than me? It’s a character competition now?”

  “Between you and your murder suspect boyfriend, I’d say I’m winning, wouldn’t you?”

  “He’s not a murderer,” I said hotly. “Please stop letting your personal issues cloud your professional judgment.”

  “I’m using my professional judgment,” he said. “There were vampire bites on the victim. Your boyfriend was there the night she died.”

  “So was I.” I glanced back at Jarrod’s arm. “Is it possible the puncture marks were made by snake fangs or something else?”

  The sheriff sighed. “Rose, I get that you’re determined to clear your boyfriend, but snakes don’t drain bodies of blood, fangs or no fangs.”

  He had a point.

  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to stop investigating,” the sheriff said.

  “I’m not investigating,” I said. “I’m writing a story about Bonnie.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “I can charge you with obstruction of justice, you know.”

  “I’m not obstructing anything. I’m doing my job, same as you.”

  He exhaled loudly. “Stars and stones, Rose. Why do you have to look so damn pretty in the moonlight? Can’t you magic yourself a wart on the end of your nose or something?”

  I laughed and the tension between us vanished.

  “I think Marley could make that happen for you,” I said. “Although she’s having a little trouble managing her magic.”

  His brow lifted. “Marley’s having trouble accomplishing something?”